Necessity
by WindowChild
Summary: Post a theoretical The Last Olympian. Luke is sentenced to life on Calypso's island. LukeCalypso.


What was his torture was her awaited reward.

The days of August were almost over when she found him, unconscious, on her beach. His yellow hair was jagged and sweaty, plastered unattractively to his forehead. Nonetheless, Calypso smiled. Company, at last. And she thought she would never have another suitor after the son of Poseidon. Before he awoke, she carried him into her flower patch. This one would not leave her.

Riding on the unexpected euphoria, she tended to his wounds as she had done not months before. He was covered with bruises and gashes, bearing the obvious signs of battle. His left wrist seemed to be sprained, and his kneecap busted. Calypso allowed pity to escalate her adoration all the further.

For several days he slept, occasionally moaning or fidgeting in pain. Thrice a day Calypso slipped spoons of water and food through his lips. They were always the best moments of her day, as they led her to believe she was keeping him strong. Whenever she grew bored, she would check his pulse.

At last he gained consciousness, opening his eyes to find Calypso gazing lovingly at him. After realizing who she was, he groaned, shutting them once more. This did not dissuade her however, and she continued to stroke his blonde wisps of hair. Even she could absorb the difference between this time and the last; he didn't have the choice to leave her.

"Would you like some more water?" Calypso asked, holding up a pitcher.

Luke shook his head, propping himself up on his wrists. He could not begin to process his fate. Defeated, and stuck on an island for the rest of his life. There seemed to be no reason to stay awake at all. However, the tender fingers upon his chin vehemently disagreed.

"It's alright," she said quietly, inching toward him. "I won't hurt you." He finally succumbed, only to find that her brown irises were inches from his blue ones. His frown subsided into a thin line at the improved sight of her.

"Your marks are gone," Calypso said proudly, stepping back from him. "You're good as new."

He seemed impassive for a moment and then stiffened, reaching up to touch his face. "My scar…" he said, his voice rusty from lack of use. "It's gone." She smiled, and he ignored it. Luke felt angry at first, but it soon dissolved into uselessness. That scar had been the last evidence of his previous life. Now, he was forced to believe that he would truly never return to the glamour of destruction and battle.

He then realized that she was waiting for a response. "Thank you," he said, at last, "You healed me."

She nodded, continuing to grin. "How do you feel?"

"Tired," he said at once. The combination of beaten and sentenced had taken its toll on his stamina.

"Oh." She sounded disappointed, "Well, we can go on the beach if you want. The sun might do you some good." She touched his bare skin and he let her, deciding that there wasn't much else for him to do on an island.

They strolled around the shoreline every day. Calypso convinced him that the sand would be easy to walk on, even with his injuries. Most of the time it was enjoyable.

Luke finally began to remember some things about the way life could be. And even though he wasn't quite as in love with Calypso as she was with him, he convinced himself that maybe he could be someday. She had all the right qualities, after all. She was even a titan, the irony of which took Luke a while to recover from. But for most of the hours in the day, they were happy. She helped him remember and forget, and he was her newest toy. Her hero, despite all he had done.

It was the nights that grew rough. Something about the sight of the moon led Luke to homesickness, and then hostility and anger. He wanted nothing more than to escape, and rid himself of everything to do with the world. He was furious with everyone in the universe, it seemed, and not even Calypso's singing would soothe him.

One time, when he was particularly enraged, he went on about Percy for a bit. This was the only hour where she deserted him. Whatever she may have felt for Luke, Percy would always claim the core of her devotion. It was an obvious barrier that would have to come between them.

The next morning, Luke tried to brush over what had happened. He felt better, as he so often did, and longed to be immersed in her affection once again. And so he pretended. He said he'd been missing his friends, and Percy was the one who had taken them from him. He was wise enough not to use their names.

Calypso, a true romantic, fell for him all over again. She praised his sensitivity and sympathized about his lost friends; she vowed to help him through it all. Luke smiled at this, knowing that there was finally a game he could win.

Having been there for nearly two months, Luke learned a lot about Calypso. Significantly more than Percy had, anyhow. He played to her weaknesses, doing everything possible to make her love him the _most_. Whatever he may have felt for Calypso, he cared more about surpassing Percy. Some habits die hard.

"Are you happy?" She asked him one day, about four months into his stay.

"Of course," Luke answered, giving her a playful grin, "How could I not be?" And it was true, for all of its lies.

She smiled with him them, "Oh good. Sometimes I think you'd rather go back to your friends."

Her tone was scornful, and Luke found himself oddly offended. Even after all they had done to bring him down, there were two people who would always hold the core of _his_ devotion. He hated himself for realizing this after the fact.

Six months passed. Luke had told himself that after six months, he would finally believe it. It was over. His entire past, both parts, meant absolutely _nothing_ here. He would force himself to accept it.

"Aren't –" he pauses, suddenly at a loss for how to begin. He feels like the question is rather inevitable, but is nervous at how to address it. "Don't you like me?" It comes out as a bleat, because they haven't really kissed yet. Not that he is aware of, at least. He thinks that perhaps she has been waiting for him to ask.

And then he sees her face. She is so before incredibly delighted, and Luke knows that he has never made anyone that happy. Her smile is soon inches from his lips, and Luke gives in. He will love her, because there is really no other choice. It might be more of necessity than deserved adoration, but this makes it all the more passionate. It has little heart on his behalf, but all of the soul in the world.

It is the third and final stage of his life, and he will at last make the best of it.

A/N: Thanks to **greekmythologyluver** for betaing! Please review!


End file.
